


Fishtails

by Neyiea



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Hair Braiding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is unexpectedly good at braiding hair. One might even say that he is <i>too good</i> at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fishtails

It is perhaps a little vain of him, that once he's eaten and slept in the relative safety of the skin-changer's home the one thing he can think about is washing his hair.

In his defence it hasn't been properly washed in what feels like ages, and his dwarfish pride makes it difficult for Thorin to imagine continuing the journey home with dirty, unkempt locks. Surely there is at least a river nearby where he can rinse off and comb out the accumulating tangles.

He asks this of his host, and Beorn lets out a deep, rumbling sound that Thorin assumes is a chuckle before telling him there is no need for him to bathe in mountain run-off.

The washing basin is simple and a bit tall, but filled with water from the kettle it is steaming and more alluring than any marble bathtub Thorin has ever seen. He washes quickly, nearly praising Mahal when he discovers soap, though he does admittedly linger in the warmth for longer than he initially planned. Pulling himself out of the water is a challenge in will power, but he knows better than to hoard this luxury to himself.

After he's dried off and mostly dressed he settles down on the soft grass outside. He combs though his wet hair, gently working on any leftover tangles, and the simple, familiar motion of it relaxes him further.

In such a tranquil state it is no wonder that, when he spies Bilbo weaving to and fro between Beorn's dogs, he bids him over. He can't help but notice the way Bilbo's gaze trails over him, the hobbit unused to seeing him without multiple layers, and he automatically straightens his back even further, the picture of majestic elegance.

"Master Baggins," he greets lowly, and Bilbo smiles crookedly at him.

"Master Oakenshield," he adresses cheerily, "did you need me for something?"

"Yes." Thorin deliberately sets down his comb and beckons Bilbo even closer, a surge of satisfaction rushing through him when their --his-- burglar moves forward without question. "It would greatly please me if you would be so kind as to braid my hair."

Bilbo sends him a bewildered look. He is not entirely aware of the significance of what Thorin has requested of him, but he has obviously been around dwarrows long enough to realize that it is an important gesture.

"Are you sure?" He asks, even though he settles down on his knees at Thorin's side.

Thorin nods, watching closely as Bilbo fiddles with the hem of his waistcoat.

"I'll try to replicate the way you normally wear it, but I'm not sure if-"

"Just do what you can."

Bilbo nods and shifts closer. Thorin closes his eyes with a pleased sigh.

The feeling of someone else running their hands through his hair is strange at first, but he acclimatizes to it at once, and even goes so far as to lean slightly into the touch. Bilbo hums contently, and Thorin can feel him begin to gather and divide his hair.

The intertwining locks likely won't be as immaculate as he is used to, Bilbo not having the experience to weave his hair faultlessly, but he will wear his new braids with pride.

His own fingers itch to plait Bilbo's soft curls, but his hair isn't quite long enough yet, not to mention his obliviousness to the importance of such an occurrence.

Hopefully, when he catches sight of the others' reactions to Thorin's new braids, he will gain some awareness.

If not, then Thorin can tell him; in the dark of the night when everyone else is sleeping, he will whisper the intricate meanings of so many simple things into Bilbo's ear, will promise to let the hobbit practice, every day if need be, until his deft fingers are the envy of every dwarf in Middle Earth.

"There's one side done," Bilbo murmurs before shuffling over to his other side, and Thorin bites back a smile. 

He's taking such care in his work, he imagines if he'd open his eyes to glance at him Bilbo's eyebrows would be furrowed in concentration, his cheeks would be somewhat flushed from the obvious intimacy of the moment, and he'd be thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip. The thought of Bilbo's flustered face is enough motivation for him to crack open an eye and steal a look.

Bilbo's cheeks are a bit pink, but over-all he looks incredibly serene.

Thorin will have to restrain himself from asking Bilbo to re-braid his hair every morning. 

The hobbit catches his eye and grins before pulling his hands away. "There, all finished."

Thorin brings his hands up to run over the nonuniform plaits, and finds himself pausing when his fingers smoothly slide over the perfectly even locks. He looks down, stunned to find that Bilbo's work had been flawless.

"You braid hair very well," he murmurs, mind racing with theories as to why Bilbo would have such remarkable prowess.

"Oh, thank you. Do you like them?"

"I do." Had he been helping to style the hair of other members of the Company? The thought irritates him greatly. Who would be so bold as to-

"I'm glad. It's really the only style of braid I know how to do."

Thorin relaxes minutely. He doesn't think he's seen anyone wearing this particular sort of braid, so perhaps he can rest easy now.

"It's a bit of a favourite, so I never get any practice with other types." Bilbo laughs lightly, seemingly unaware of Thorin's re-awakening inner-turmoil. He pats Thorin on the shoulder and mentions something about a second breakfast before leaving the dwarf to sulkily brood on the grass.

"A favourite for who?"

x-x-x

It is only after luncheon that Bilbo's attention shifts from the joy a proper number of meals can give to the moping of a certain member of their party. Even then it is only because Fíli and Kíli keep catching his eyes from across the table and pointedly gesturing in Thorin's direction.

The King Under the Mountain seems much broodier than usual, especially considering what pleasant company he'd been mere hours before, but Bilbo's not sure what _he's_ supposed to do about it.

He tires to convey this with small gestures and mouthed words as best as he can, but in the end the brothers both peg him with a wide eyed stare that just screams 'do something.'

He huffs, even though he's almost half certain of why he's being singled out as the one who needs to lift Thorin's spirits, and when the dwarf in question moodily slips away from the table it doesn't take long for Bilbo to follow, dutifully ignoring the amused but grateful looks being cast in his direction.

He finds the dwarf outside, in the same spot he'd been this morning when Bilbo had braided his hair, and Bilbo wonders if he should be pleased or worried that Thorin seems to be continuously running his fingers over the intertwining locks.

Well, he hasn't taken them out yet, so that has to be a good sign.

Bilbo sits down beside him and steels himself for what is likely to be an awkward conversation.

"So, why the long face?"

Thorin frowns and glances at him from the corner of his eye. "My face is not unnaturally extended."

"That's not what that means." Bilbo replies, exasperation outweighing any lingering unease. "It's a roundabout way of asking why you're being so grumpy."

"I'm not," Thorin denies without conviction.

"You were perfectly amiable earlier."

"I am as I always am."

Bilbo snorts and crosses his arms. "Ah yes, exceedingly charming, as always."

Thorin's hand, which had still been caressing the braid on his right side, slows to a stop. He shoots Bilbo an unreadable look, and the hobbit shifts uncomfortably.

"If you don't like them you can take them out, I won't mind."

"Take them out? Why-" Thorin clutches at his hair as if he thinks Bilbo is going to reach out and loosen the braids himself. "Why would I do such a thing?"

"You've been acting strange since I put them in. I guess they're probably not up to par with your usual braids-"

"What gave you that idea?" Thorin cuts him off, leaning in close so that there's only a scant couple of inches between them.

"Well, I know dwarrows are very... Fond of their braids, and you have been acting quite odd, don't deny it, so it's natural for me to think that you're being fussy about the way I plaited your hair."

"No, that is not it at all. You are very skilled in the art of braiding, Master Baggins." Thorin looms over Bilbo without meaning to, and the hobbit suddenly finds it difficult to look the dwarf in the eyes. "Maybe even _too_ skilled." 

Bilbo sputters and he brings his hands up to Thorin's chest, nudging him back slightly.

"What do you even mean by that? Shouldn't you be happy then, that I was able to braid your hair in a manner that pleases you?" 

"I would have been pleased even if you had left a mess of tangles and knots behind," Thorin admits and Bilbo risks a glance up. "I just do not understand..." He grits his teeth and Bilbo steels himself for a rough outburst.

"How are you so good at braiding hair?"

Bilbo is completely still for a moment, but his lips eventually quirk up in a smile. Then he catches sight of Thorin's moody frown and has to bite back laughter.

"This is a very serious matter! Who have you been practicing on?"

Bilbo prods at Thorin's chest with a finger, his smile not fading in the least. "You're jealous!"

Thorin opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Bilbo's finger moves from his chest to tap at his lips.

"Fine," he grumbles. "I'm jealous. Now would you please answer my question?"

Bilbo runs his fingers over one of the braids and catches Thorin's eyes with his own.

"Hobbits have very large extended families," he states, his smile still wide and bright, "and I have an awful lot of nieces and young cousins who are more than happy to sit still for a couple minutes so that I can style their hair."

"So you have not-- You did not--"

"I have never braided a dwarrow's hair before yours."

"Ah."

"Yes, 'ah'." Bilbo snickers and curls the braid around his finger. "Now I have a question for you. It's only fair, after all."

Thorin feels his cheeks go warm; he'd feel embarrassed about it if Bilbo didn't look so delighted.

"Then ask me whatever you wish."

"Well, it's more of a request, really." He tugs lightly on the braid and Thorin just about stops breathing. "I would very much like to practice different braids, but my own hair is far too short to work with. Would you allow me to use yours?"

"Yes," Thorin says a little too quickly, and he attempts to look less eager by clearing his throat and adding, "but only on one condition."

"Oh?" Bilbo cocks his head to the side, his smile fading slightly. "What is your condition?"

"That, once your hair reaches a workable length, you will allow me to braid yours as well."

Thorin is fascinated to note that the tips of Bilbo's ears are the first thing to go red, then the colour spreads across each cheek until it meets seamlessly in the middle.

"That sounds incredibly fair," Bilbo muses with a steady voice, and his eyes are outright shining, "it's a deal."

He draws Thorin's braid close to press his lips against the bead, and Thorin's fingers itch at the idea of doing something _slightly_ more inappropriate.

That is, of course, when Fíli and Kíli jump out from where they'd been hiding and tackle the unprepared pair. The brothers seem torn between laughing and sweetly cooing at them, but Thorin takes it all in stride.

He idly twists a finger around one of Bilbo's curls, wondering how long it will take to grow, and allows himself a small smile when Bilbo shoots a pleased look his way.

He can afford to be patient, especially when in the meantime he'll have Bilbo peacefully braiding and re-braiding his hair.


End file.
